The Yule Ball
by Weirdawesomechick
Summary: A One-shot (most likely) of Hermione's inner monologue after Ron's obnoxious behavior at the Yule Ball. She's always been defined by her intelligence, but for once she was the pretty one who the famous Viktor Krum wanted to go out with, and Ron ruined her night, so she's fretting about it. Rated because I'm paranoid about light swearing.


AN: Well, I was in the middle of reading a fic on here (In Another Life by marana1 in case you're interested-it's amazing, although fair warning it hasn't been updated in nearly two years) with Harry Potter Weekend on in the background. The scene from GoF with Ron being an ass at the Yule Ball came up, and I figured I'd take another stab at writing and see if I couldn't get into Hermione's head (instead of wallowing in my own lol). Enjoy!

 _He. Is. An. Absolute. PRICK!_ Hermione thought, roughly swiping tears from her face. _Why does he always have to ruin everything?_

She was sitting on her bed in her dormitory after the Yule Ball, crying over her spoiled evening. Everything had been going well with Viktor and she had been having fun and dancing, and she hadn't even thought once (until now) about how much work the poor house elves must have had to put in to make the ball possible. And then Ron had stepped in and opened his stupid mouth and made her miserable about the entire ordeal.

She didn't even know why she was so upset about this, which only made her angrier and more upset about it. She should have been immune to Ron's complete and utter tactlessness by now, considering how frequently she had had to deal with it over the years. From when they'd first met in their first year at Hogwarts ( _No wonder she doesn't have any friends_ ) even up until last year when he'd shunned her on multiple occasions. When Harry received an expensive broomstick and she'd worried about his safety and told McGonagall (and she'd turned out to be right! It had been sent by Sirius Black! Of course, they'd learned afterwards that Sirius had no reason to want to harm Harry…but there could have been real danger!) and then again over that stupid rat (who'd turned out to be the man responsible for the deaths of Harry's parents, so it would have been all the better for Crookshanks to have eaten him, really, and anyway Crookshanks hadn't eaten him so there had been nothing to be angry about anyway).

But this was different. Where did he get off telling her who she could and couldn't socialize with? Just because he hadn't noticed that she was a girl didn't mean that no one else had, either! Not that she cared what he thought, anyway, and not that she particularly cared about being noticed that way at all. It was simply the principle of the thing! He had no right to treat her that way, to be a complete and utter arse!

She had actually been enjoying herself with Viktor, dancing and allowing herself to shirk her usual role as the swotty, plain, muggleborn Gryffindor girl that Harry Potter spent time with, when Ronald had brought the whole night crashing down. Viktor had been the first boy—man, really, considering his status as a professional and famous Quidditch player—to properly notice her. If she was being honest with herself, she didn't really expect anything to come of her acquaintance—not really the right word for it, but was there really a better one? She and Viktor weren't friends, but they also weren't really anything more—with him. He liked to watch her read, had been trying to pluck up the courage to talk to her. He asked her to the ball, yes, and they had danced, and before that he had surprised her once or twice in the library by walking in and stealing a kiss before the giggling hoard of girls had been able to show up. She was flattered, really, by the attention, and she wasn't entirely opposed to kissing him, but he was so much older than her, and she was only fifteen, after all. There would be plenty more time for things like that once she had finished her studies, and hopefully earned Outstandings on all her OWLS and NEWTS and proven herself as a fully competent witch despite her blood status.

That one night, though. That one night, she was allowing herself to be a girl, a real teenage girl. The kind that cared about appearances and boys and not about homework or Harry's latest adventure, or keeping her friends from getting killed. She had used copious amounts of hair potion to tame her bushy mane, and her front teeth had been perfect since she had had them shrunken (she really _had_ been trying to get her parents to allow her to shrink them, but Snape's comments had played on that insecurity and put her over the edge, not that she'd mention that to anyone when they would finally notice, if they even noticed). Her dress robes were periwinkle blue and floaty, and she felt like she was in a fairy tale, and it was only a bonus that she had been able to wipe that stupid smirk off of Malfoy's face! Everything had been going swimmingly and she had felt like on top of the world and like nothing could have brought her down.

But no. Ron had had to go and spoil everything. Telling her that Viktor had only liked her, asked her to the ball, spared her a mere glance, all because she was friends with one of the Hogwarts champions, the famous Boy-Who-Lived. Viktor hadn't asked her a damn thing about Harry! And even if he were seeking information about Harry or help with the tasks (which he wasn't!) and not interested in her (which he was!) it was an insult to Hermione's intelligence to assume that she wouldn't have been able to figure it out herself, and to assume that she would be so easily manipulated into telling him anything. And even worse, it was an insult to her loyalty to Harry to assume that she would knowingly divulge any information! God damn Ron! God damn him!

Oh god…

What if that _was_ the only reason Viktor was even talking to her? He hadn't asked her anything yet, of course, but perhaps the key word of that statement was "yet." Who was to say that he wouldn't?

She was just a silly fifteen-year-old girl, what did he even see in her? Not that she cared, but…it was nice to have been wanted for once, rather than simply used for her notes and homework. Viktor liked that she was smart, right? Maybe he even thought her pretty…although she _had_ changed her appearance completely for the Yule Ball…

But he had liked her before then! He had watched her study, and she hadn't done anything special to her hair when she was studying! But her teeth…

But he liked that she was smart! But Ron said…

 _It doesn't matter._ Hermione stifled a sob, reigning in the rest of the tears that threatened to pour out. She stripped off the dress robes that she had been so excited about and hopped in the shower to wash the potion out of her hair. Everything would be back to normal by morning.

AN: It's kind of stream-of-consciousness, and also not betaed (I kind of just spontaneously threw it up into a Word document), and I simultaneously like and am unsure about the style. Constructive criticism welcome!


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